Road Rage
by Finding Tobias
Summary: There are three kinds of drivers: The gold star student, the mediocre driver, and those who shouldn't be allowed within at least 50 feet of something that has a gas pedal. You too, can save the world while taking Behind the Wheel.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Biker Mice belong to their respective owner, I am nothing more than a broke college student. All you'll get is a package of Ramen noodles.

Okay, now for the fun stuff.

**Title: Road Rage**

**Rating: PG for cursing, road rage, running red lights, speeding, parallel parking…and all around reckless driving.**

**Summary: Charlie decides it's time for the Guys to get a real driver's license so she signs them up for "Behind the Wheel".**

A/n: (Last one I swear…) The laws considering driving may not match up… I'm using the ones from Virginia as my guide; they may not be the same as the ones in Illinois. I know I'm a bad and lazy writer.

It was a nice spring day in the city of Chicago… The pigeons were cooing and the sound of afternoon traffic filled the air. Somewhere… More specifically, Last Chance garage Rock 'n Roll filled the air. The radio was turned up so loud that anyone walking next to the speakers would have their ear drums shattered by the sound of a wailing electric guitar. If it wasn't the electric guitar, then it was the bad singing. A person with perfect pitch probably would have already shot themselves.

But all that aside, the inhabitants of Last Chance Garage were having a grand old time working on their bikes, drinking root beer, and rocking out to some good music. To them, this was a perfect way to spend a friday afternoon.

"_Oh I'm sorry but it's truuuuue /You're briiingin' on the heartbreeeeaaak /Taaakin' all the best of meeeeeee/Oh can't you seeeee?"_ Three voices warbled inside the garage

"You're taking the best of my hearing, that's what you're taking," A slender woman with brown hair and green eyes huffed as she unplugged the radio. The awful singing was soon replaced by grumbling.

"Awww, come on Charley-girl that was my favorite song," A white-furred mouse with a plate over the right side of his face complained.

"Every song is you're favorite song as far as you're concerned," Charley answered dropping the plug on the floor. "I'm surprised the neighbors haven't called to complain yet."

"I guess we were a little out of tune. We need to take it up a half-step," A brown mouse with green sunglasses and a leather vest mused.

"What's a half-step?" A big gray mouse with a bionic arm asked, looking up from his bike.

But before the brown mouse could answer, he was interrupted by Vinnie. "Hey sweetheart, you think we're good enough to be on that show?"

"What show?" Charlie asked.

"The show where those people sing and some of them are worse than us." Vinne answered setting down his wrench in favor for the root beer in the cooler nest to him.

"Oh, oh, that one with that judge who says all those mean things to the people. Ah don't like him very much," The gray mouse growled, "Mah momma…"

"Easy big fella," The one with the sunglasses interrupted "It's the show you and Modo watch all the time."

"Oh," Modo's ears perked up at the sound of his name. He stopped growling over Simon momentarily "American Whatcha-ma-call-it. That Simon… Ah don't like him."

"I don't think anyone does," Throttle answered. "Isn't that where they guy that likes to sings about stalking people is from?"

"If I was iiiinnnnviiiisiiible!! I would lock you up…. And… and dooo stuufff!!" Vinnie howled, before Charley could answer.

Throttle clamped his hands to his ears, and then thought better of it. He delivered a swift cuff to the younger mouse's head. "That's enough, Vincent. It's not nice to insult Charley's musical tastes."

"Besides, you fuzz-faces have the words wrong, and Simon would eat you guys for lunch," Charley answered "The words are actually 'If I was invisible, I would watch you in your room', or something like that."

Throttle shrugged "It still sounds creepy either way you put it."

"What's his name, Mud?" Modo asked.

"Clay," Charley supplied "Clay Aiken."

"Same things you still add water," Vinnie replied "What's the other one's name?"

"Kelly Clarkson," Modo said "Ah like her. She's got some real talent, more so than that other guy."

"Yeah, and she's still around too," Throttle said nodding, "I hear her on the radio every once in a while."

"And she's really pretty," Vinnie added "She looks normal."

Charley rolled her eyes "Throttle, since when do you listen to Kelly Clarkson? And exactly what do you know about normal?"

He shrugged, "Whenever you listen to her CD Charley-girl. Just because I like to listen to rock 'n roll doesn't mean I'll give different music a chance."

"However, we don't give skuzzy people who watch other people in their rooms a chance because, face it sweetheart, that's just wrong," Vinnie answered.

"Ah'm against invasion of privacy myself," Modo answered "we had too much of that on Mars."

"Isn't there a law against that sort of thing here?" Throttle asked "Like an amendment?"

"Not an amendment, I don't think, but there are laws against Peeping Toms. Can we change the subject please?"

"So if this Mud---"

"Clay," Charley corrected.

"Whatever, sweetheart," Vinne answered. "The guy's still creepy, watching people in their room."

"He…It's just a song. It's not like he sits and does this in his spare time," Charley sputtered.

"Sounds like he needs to be in the slammer," Modo muttered. The three mice agreed.

"Okay, we are changing the subject. Guess what?"

"What?" Modo asked.

"I signed you three up for a Driver's Ed course." Charlie said cheerfully "So you can get your driver license."

The three mice stared at her blankly with their mouths hanging open. "I thought since you all are going to be on Earth for a while, might as well."

"Well, that's certainly changing this subject," Throttle said chuckling.

"But Charley," Modo protested "we can already drive!"

"Motorcycles, but not cars."

"What's the difference sweetheart? You're talking to one of the baddest mama jammers on this side of the Earth." Vinne boasted

"It's illegal for one thing. I'm surprised you guys haven't gotten pulled over yet."

"We can out run the police any day," Vinnie answered.

"So, if we take this class we'll be in the clear with the law?" Throttle questioned.

"If you pass. You get a 90 day temp license, and then you go to court to receive your actual license," Charlie said.

"What do we have to do to pass Charley-ma'am? I was never good at taking tests," Modo asked worriedly.

"You'll just have to drive on the course in the morning and then on the road in the afternoon. It's nothing major. Don't look so worried," Charley soothed, touching Modo's shoulder, "and it's only one day."

"Yeah, big guy. We're probably going to be the best in the class," Throttle said cheerfully. Modo's ears perked up at the sound of that.

"With a bunch of sixteen- year olds, you're probably right," Charlie agreed.

A/n: It's probably not really exciting right now… But never fear the insanity will kick in soon. Please Read and review; this is my first Biker Mice from Mars Fic. Constructive criticism is welcome, no flames preferably.


	2. Chapter 2

A/n: I do not own anything.

Thank you for the reviews, and sorry that it's taken me this long. Here is the latest installment of the Road Rage, where you too, can save the world while taking "behind the wheel."

The streets were quiet on this Saturday morning, as the daily hustle and bustle of the rest of the week was nonexistent. One could be cliché and say "nothing was stirring, not even a mouse." Unfortunately, there was someone else moving around.

A heavy set man in a purple suit looked out a window overlooking the streets of Chicago. Surprisingly, his tower had made it through Friday without getting destroyed. It seemed that those meddling Biker Mice had a habit of at least damaging his tower on Fridays. Then they'd let stand during the weekend, and then completely annihilate it on Mondays. It seemed the Biker Mice liked to either end or begin the week with a bang. (Pun not intended). He had made it through a week without any damage.

Not being able to see anything, the odious Plutarkian grabbed his binoculars off his desk and surveyed the rooftops for the meddling rodents. It was only seven o'clock in the morning, but he decided that it was never too early to watch for his enemies.

Satisfied that there was nothing out there but the customary pigeons, he went back over to his desk. He pressed the call button on his phone to call his henchman. After much fumbling and pushing random buttons he was able to call his henchman.

"Greasepit!" He bellowed from into the machine "Where are you?"

He was greeted by silence.

"Greasepit?"

No answer.

"GREASEPIT! IF YOU AREN'T IN MY OFFICE IN FIVE MINUTES YOU'RE FIRED!!!!"

This was responded by a loud crash and some choice expletives. "Be right in boss."

True to his word, the henchman appeared less than five minutes, rubbing his eyes. "Youse rang?"

"My dearest Greasepit, isn't a beautiful morning?" Limburger said taking a deep breath.

The oil covered buffoon scratched his head. "I guesses so. The radio guy says that the high is 70 degrees, low 53. Chance of rain is 10 percent." Greasepit ticked off the various predictions for the day. "Eugh…Sunburn index of 8. Pollen report is high."

"IF I WANT A FULL REPORT OF WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH THE WEATHER, I'LL WATCH THE WEATHER CHANNEL!!!!" Limburger snapped.

"I was just doing my job, boss," Greasepit said innocently.

"So you were, my dear boy, so you were," Limburger answered absent-mindedly, looking out the window of his tower.

"How should I take over Chicago today?" He mused.

Charley carefully opened the door to the mice's home in the Wrigley Scoreboard. She was greeted by at least three blaring alarm clocks, a cranked up television, and three snoring mice. Setting a small bag on the table. She grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and clicked off the blaring appliance.

"One down, six to go," she thought grimly. She walked into the room blaring rock music. She turned on the light, hoping that maybe he'd wake up. No, the inhabitant rolled and curled up in a ball clutching a teddy mouse. Charley chuckled and made a mental note to bring a digital camera for blackmail purposes.

Convinced that he wasn't going to wake up, Charley made her way back to the kitchen. Out of the bag that she brought she took out a yellow washcloth. She walked over to the sink and ran it under cold water. Not bothering to wring it out, she walked back the sleeping mouse's room. She carefully placed it on his face, and ducked as he swung like crazy.

Charley made a quick escape out of the room and watched from his doorway.

"YAAAHH! What? it? I… Enh… OW!" The white mouse cried as he fell out of bed. He sat up and picked the offending piece of cloth of his head and glared at it. He muttered a few explicatives and rubbed his head and bottom. Satisfied that he was awake, she moved on to the next room.

Charley entered the next room to the sounds of accordions. Strangely enough Modo was still sleeping soundly. "Modo?" She called, "Modo. Wake up."

"Enh… Meh? Charley Ma'am? Is that you?" Modo asked sleepily.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What are ya doin' here so early?"

"You've got that driving class, remember?" She reminded him.

"Oh, that. Completely slipped my mind," Modo said stretching "Glad you reminded me."

"No problem. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

She walked out of Modo's room and ran in to Throttle in the hallway. "Thought I ought to get up, lest you ambush me like you did Vinnie." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the muttering mouse who stormed into the bathroom.

"He'll get over it. Maybe he'll learn to get up when his alarm goes off the first time, then he'll lessen his chance of getting his face washed."

Throttle chuckled. The smell of hot dogs wafted into the room. "Smells like breakfast is done."

"Mmm…." Modo said, "It smells good."

"I can't see how you guys can eat this stuff this early in the morning," Charley said wrinkling her nose. She walked to the kitchen and started fixing plates of the bros' favorite food. Modo and Throttle followed her.

"Where's Vinnie?" She asked, noticing that the mouse hadn't made his stunning appearance yet.

"He's in the bathroom taking a shower, I think?" Throttle said, "But the water isn't running."

Right on time, Vinnie made his appearance. Looking rather disgruntled, he joined his bros at the table. "G'morning," He grumbled shoving a hot dog in his mouth and taking a swig of root beer.

"Well, aren't you just a bundle of sunshine this morning," Throttle chuckled.

"Yeah," Modo agreed, "Charley-girl even brought breakfast."

Vinnie glared at them both. Charley couldn't resist, "What happened? Did someone steal your teddymouse?"

Both Modo and Throttle choked on their root beer. "You sleep with a teddy mouse?" Modo chortled.

"Hahahaha….. Aren't you… a little… old?" Throttle asked between laughs.

"No," Vinnie lied "I don't."

Charley looked at her watch. It was a quarter to eight. "I really hate to break this up guys, but you'll going to be late for Driver's Ed."

"No worries Charley- girl, we can make it in fifteen minutes," Throttle said, standing up and pushing in his chair.

"Yeah," Modo agreed.

"We're the kings of speed," Vinnie boasted.

"Yeah, that's why people like you don't need a driver's license," Charley muttered.

"Alright bros," Throttle said putting on his helmet and revving the engines on their bikes.

"Let's Rock and Drive!"

"Oh boy," Charley said shaking her head as she watched them drive away into the morning. "The driving instructors are going to have their hands full."

A/n: After much delay, here is the next chapter. I can't thank those people reviewed enough. Please read and review. Ride free citizens!


	3. Chapter 3

A/n: I own nothing except for the plot.

Chapter 3

"WAIT!" Charley yelled, over the revving of their engines.

"Charley-girl you're ruining our awesome exit."

"I forgot. You guys can't drive there."

"WHAT!" Vinnie cried. "Are you trying to ruin my ego?"

"You don't know where you're going, and besides it looks better that way," she said, brushing them off. "And Vinnie darling, nothing could ruin your ego."

"We have pretty good since of direction," Throttle said.

"Yeah," Modo chimed in. "We made it here from Mars okay."

She shook her head. "It's not that. We need to make it look like you haven't been driving."

"But that's not any fun," Vinnie complained.

"How does making us look like we don't drive suppose to help us?" Throttle asked.

"Legally, by Earth and Illinois state laws you can't drive. The fact that you are driving now, illegally, could get you in deep trouble."

Throttle rubbed his chin and thought about it and nodded.

"But Charley-girl," Vinnie whined, "It's not cool for the baddest mamajammer like me to be driven around."

"Are you implying that I'm not awesome enough to drive?" She pointed a threatening finger at him. "You drive me around all of the time."

"But that's different," Modo answered, "It's a gentlemouse's job."

"What if something happens?" Throttle asked, completely ignoring Vinnie's nonsensical babble about Charley's driving. "Like Limburger gets one of his bright ideas to attack Chicago?"

"Yeah," Modo agreed.

"The answer is still no, unless you want spend some time in jail and pay a fine with money that you don't have."

This caused the three of them exchange to looks.

"She's got a point," Modo said. "The Mayor likes us well enough, but we're guests on this planet."

"Charley," Throttle started. "There's been no sign from Limburger for a week. He might attack today for all we know."

Charley checked her watch. "Then you get to tell me 'I told you so,' if he does attack. Let's go, we're going to be late."

"But I don't like cars," Vinnie whimpered.

"Cry me a river." She muttered. "I'll take the bikes and give them some much needed upgrades and TLC at the garage while, you three are in your class."

The three bros loaded the bikes into the trailer that was attached to the truck.

The four piled into Charley's pickup truck. It was cramped in the back seat. Vinnie crossed his arms in front of him, annoyed. The bros' bikes beeped and whistled at them.

Modo put his hand on the handle bar of his bike. "You have go with Charley-Ma'am right now."

Lil Hoss beeped miserably.

"I know, I know. When in Rome…"

"Do as in Rome," Throttle finished.

Unbeknownst to the Bros, Limburger's lovable lumbering lackey lurked behind the exit of Quigley stadium. The smell of the garbage in the dingy alley masked the smell of oil and dead fish that seem to follow Greaspit around. He sat in his motorcycle hiding behind a branch, pretending to be one with the tree. Charley and the bros did not seem to notice him, even though the tree was awkwardly out of place.

As they pulled away, Greasepit picked up his walky-talky. "The meeses have left the nest? They're not riding their bikes. Something's wrong."

Limburger's nasally voice came over the intercom. "Greasepit, my dear boy, how many times do I have tell you. Go figure out what's wrong with those wretched rodents and call me back. I can't do anything if I have no idea what those meddling mice are up to."

"Dey's gotten in that Charley lady's truck."

"THEN FOLLOW THEM, BUT KEEP YOUR DISTANCE. More orders will come later when you have completed that simple task." Greasepit jumped at the voice giving the orders, landing hard in his motorcycle. The umbrella on his drooped pitifully. It used to be a shade of red, but the sun had bleached it to a light pink and it had spots of oil over it. The edges were singed. Greaspit tossed his disguise in the nearest trashcan sped off in a splatter of grease.

Limburger mulled over the information that his slippery stooge had given him. Clearly the dear boy had gotten distracted on his daily errand to the bait store to buy meal worms, but it was a distraction that could make or break his If those blasted Biker mice were out of commission, that would make his takeover of Chicago that much easier.

He pressed a button on his intercom. "My dear Dr. Karbunkle."

"Yes, your putrid Parmesan pastiness?" A voice, a cross between a hiss and a squeak came over the small speaker.

"It seems that those blasted Biker Mice seem to be having engine trouble. Is this wonderful turn of fate your doing?"

"No, your fetid feta flatulence-ness."

"Interesting. This would be an opportune time to take over Chicago."

"I have just the thing, your Golden Gouda Goodness."

"Excellent. I leave Chicago's destruction in your capable hands." He hung up on the doctor. Then he leaned back and looked out the window of his tower. "I love the smell of destruction in the morning."

A/n:

Please read and review. And yes, god willing it won't take me years to update to again ;)


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